


Vinny finds a stray!

by notwisely



Category: You Could Make a Life Series - Taylor Fitzpatrick
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Transformation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-06 17:42:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11041092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notwisely/pseuds/notwisely
Summary: So. True love's kiss? Total bullshit. Anton knows, because Vinny's kissed his face like fifty times since he pulled Anton out from under the couch, and Anton isstill a fucking cat.





	Vinny finds a stray!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [philologique](https://archiveofourown.org/users/philologique/gifts).



> hey guys! this is my largely ridiculous fic for the YCMAL mini bang, with [accompanying playlist](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11048172) by the amazing [philologique](http://archiveofourown.org/users/philologique), who was a total gem & also beta'd the whole thing. the playlist is phenomenal so please check it out! thanks to [shearsys](http://shearsys.tumblr.com/) also for organizing this!

**BOVARD**

Vinny is late, which is unusual. Petrov's missing too, and the clock reads twenty after. Serge shoots a questioning look at Joseph, who shrugs and shakes his head. Gagnon isn't generally the type to bench a player for oversleeping, but any later and there will be consequences—and this late in the season, fighting for home ice, they can't afford to sit Petrov.

His phone buzzes, and Serge feels a flash of relief when he sees Thomas' name on the screen.

"Vinny," he starts, "You two better have a _damn_ good excuse–"

"Um," Vinny says, and Serge stops because there's a note of genuine panic in Thomas' voice. "Anton's, um, Anton's sick?"

"What happened?" Serge can see Deps looking over, frowning at the alarm in his voice, and forces himself to calm down. Vinny's responsible enough to call a hospital for a serious emergency, so this has to be team-related.

"It's... a little hard to explain. Could you– could you maybe come over to Anton's place?" Vinny's voice goes muffled, as if he's turned away from the phone, "Stop it, _stop_ , I'm not telling him over the _phone_ – um, Serge?"

If it had been anyone else, Serge might have rolled his eyes and told them to get their asses to practice, but he's fairly certain Vinny would come in with a broken leg to avoid inconveniencing the team. "Yeah, yeah okay. I'll be right over."

He's not sure what to expect when he pulls into the driveway of Petrov's house, but he thinks he has prepared himself for the worst. Unfortunately, it turns out that he is not, in fact, prepared to see Vinny answer the door while sheepishly clutching a sleek grey cat.

"Um," says Vinny.

**ANTON**

Anton wakes up and stretches—or tries to stretch, but his arms and legs are trapped in a tangle of cloth. He flails for a moment, clawing ( _clawing?_ ) at the blanket over his face, and lashing his tail ( _tail?_ ), but before he has time to fully process, Vinny rolls over and mumbles, "Tony?"

Vinny pats the bed and grabs a corner of the blanket. "Tony?" he says again, this time sounding a little alarmed. The blanket comes free suddenly, sending Anton sprawling onto the floor of his bedroom. Everything is _enormous_ , including Vinny's concerned face looming over the side of the bed. Anton flinches backwards, paws ( _paws_ ) skittering over the wood. _What the fuck,_ he tries to say, and what comes out is a frantic meow.

Anton bolts.

He's wedged himself into a corner underneath the couch and is repeating _this isn't happening this isn't happening_ in desperate little mews when Vinny finds him.

"T– Tony? Is that… you?" Vinny sounds a little panicked himself, but he presses his face to the crack between the couch and the floor so he can look at Anton. "C'mon, come out, we'll figure this out. You can't stay under there forever."

Anton _can_ , actually, he thinks, because _he's turned into a cat_ so clearly anything is possible. Vinny reaches under the couch and when his fingers brush against Anton's side, Anton instinctively whacks the hand away with a paw.

"Ow!" Vinny says, jerking his hand back. Anton is filled with immediate, overwhelming horror. Two seconds later, though, Vinny's put his arm back under the couch like an _idiot_.

"Tony, come on. You have to like, eat and stuff." Anton doesn't want to come out from under the couch. Anton doesn't want to _be a cat_. He looks at the fine red scratches on Vinny's hand and, in a rush of guilt, sticks his head out to lick them. " _Ow!_ " Vinny says again, when the rough sandpaper of his tongue scrapes over the skin, and Anton immediately whips his head away, slumping into a puddle of shame. Vinny ruthlessly takes advantage of this to wrap his hands gently around Anton's midsection and pull him out.

After they are situated properly on top of the couch instead of underneath it, with Anton curled up in Vinny's lap, they assess the situation. Or rather, Vinny assesses the situation and Anton thinks _what the fuck I'm a cat why am I a cat what the FUCK_.

"Okay," says Vinny, in what Anton thinks of as his Take-Charge Voice. Usually it's employed to get Anton to help with the chores. "You can't play like this."

Anton huffs. _Obviously_.

"I'm just listing the facts, Tony," Vinny says reproachfully. "You can't play. So we have to tell someone." Anton doesn't love the thought, but it's true. They have the first half of a back-to-back tomorrow, and if _whatever_ this is can't be fixed by then, the team needs to know. "We could call your parents?"

 _No fucking way_. Anton says, except it comes out as a loud, hissing meow. He tries to stand up so that he can drive home to Vinny exactly how bad this idea is.

"Okay, okay!" Vinny says, pushing on Anton's back so he'll lay down again. "It's gotta be Bovard then, right?" Anton sighs, but he can't think of anyone else either, so he slumps back down in resigned agreement. Vinny pulls out his phone to make what is going to be, Anton bets, the weirdest phone call _ever_.

*

When Bovard arrives, he stares at Vinny in baffled disbelief, then at Anton in a deeply accusatory betrayal. Anton hisses and puffs up. He didn't _ask_ for this. Bovard isn't the one with _fur_.

"Well, that's definitely him." Bovard says, despairingly. Anton huffs again and goes to sulk on the couch while Vinny and Bovard discuss what to do.

"I'll tell management he's got, uh-" they both turn to look at where Anton is pointedly ignoring them.

"An upper-body injury?" Vinny volunteers hesitantly. "Whole… body?"

"… illness." Bovard says finally.

Anton rolls his eyes and curls up tighter onto the couch. Except when he thinks to look up again to find Vinny, he realizes that Vinny has packed up and is getting ready to head out the door. Of course, because _Vinny_ can still go to practice. Which leaves Anton alone in the house all day, as a  _cat_. Anton abruptly can't think of anything less appealing. Before he can really think about it, he's leapt off the couch and raced around to plant himself between Vinny and the door.

"Tony," Vinny says, "I have to go to practice." He goes to step forward and Anton meows loudly, winding himself around Vinny's leg. Vinny stops, torn, then glances at Bovard who is very poorly pretending not to smile. He straightens when Vinny looks at him.

"No. Absolutely not."

"He could sit behind the glass! Kids come watch practice all the time." Vinny picks Anton up, which Anton permits, but just for the purposes of this particular sell. He refuses to look at Bovard, who is _definitely_ laughing now.

"Fine, all right. Bring him to practice. _You_ figure out what you're going to tell the team, though."

**CARMEN**

Sandro's warming up with the rest of the team, but his eyes keep drifting over towards the tunnel. Vinny had been late, then later, then missing entirely, and Bovard had dashed off shortly after, so Sandro's—mildly concerned. It was _weird_ , that's all.

"Hey, watch it, Carms." Grayson says mildly as Sandro nearly skates into him.

"Oh shit, sorry, man." Sandro winces, and shakes his head. It's probably nothing. He should focus on practice.  _C'mon Vinny_ , he thinks, and, as if summoned, Vinny comes dashing through the tunnel, apologies spilling from him before he even hits the ice.

"I'm _psychic_ ," Sandro breathes, then, "Vinster!" swooping over to loop an arm around Vinny's shoulders. He peers curiously into the tunnel, but only sees Bovard walking out. "Where's Petrov? He's not dead, is he?"

"No!" Vinny says, appalled. But his eyes dart away from Sandro and he ducks his head a little the way he always does when he's _lying, what the fuck_.

Sandro's about to press further when a flash of motion by the benches catches his eye and he glances over to see, "Cat!"

He catches the tail end of Vinny's "Carms, wait–" but Sandro's already streaked over to the bench, followed by the rest of the team as they crowd around the visitor.

It's a bluish-grey cat, with thick, short fur. Sandro would call it pretty if it weren't also the single most pissed-off looking animal he's ever seen.

"Vinny, did you buy a _cat_?" Deps is saying, "And then bring that cat to practice?"

"I'm, um, emergency cat-sitting." Vinny mumbles, then, helplessly, "I couldn't leave him alone at home!"

Sandro's already taking off his glove. The cat _looks_ angry, sure, but if it's a Vinny cat it's gotta be a secret marshmallow, he thinks.

"Tony, _no!_ " Vinny yells, half a beat too late. There's a long silence where the cat hunches down under the force of Vinny's glare, Sandro clutches his wounded hand, and _everyone_ stares at Vinny.

"You named the cat after _Petrov_?" Sandro says, finally.

"He's not _my_ cat." Vinny says reflexively.

Sandro frowns and folds his arms. Not-Vinny's-cat is letting Deps pet him, albeit reluctantly. He's great with animals, it shouldn't matter that Vinny's borrowed cat doesn't like him.

Vinny bumps Sandro's shoulder apologetically. "He's not really a people pers—um, cat."

"Just like the real Petrov, then," Sandro huffs.

**ANTON**

By the time they get home from practice, Anton is _starving_. It's been a long morning, and panic burns a lot of energy. He streaks over the fridge as soon as Vinny opens the door and paces restlessly in front of it.

When Vinny has _finally_ made his way over and pulled open the fridge, there's a pause as he and Anton look at each other. "Tony, what… do cats eat?" he says slowly. Anton tries to shrug, unsuccessfully, but he thinks Vinny gets the point. Anton knows next to nothing about cats and it's just his luck the curse hasn't magically changed _that_. "Milk? Milk should be okay, right?"

He pours some of their milk into a bowl with one hand, pulling out his phone with the other. Vinny's muttering "What human foods can cats eat?" as he types, and Anton meows loudly to remind Vinny that he can't reach his own fucking counters any more. "Whoops, sorry Tony." Vinny plops the bowl down in front of Anton, who eagerly ducks his head to drink, only to find himself suddenly four feet in the air as Vinny grabs him with both hands, phone clattering to the ground.

"Wait, no!" Vinny looks deeply panicked and guilty. Anton hisses. He's _hungry_. "You might be _lactose intolerant_ , Tony." Vinny frowns down at the bowl of milk like it's personally betrayed him.

*

Anton finishes his WebMD-endorsed steak lunch before Vinny's cleared his plate of pasta. He circles the living room briefly, then, bored, returns to the kitchen to bump his head against Vinny's legs until Vinny levers Anton up into his lap. Anton nestles up against Vinny, pleasantly full, until Vinny says, "Naptime?" and, without prompting, carries Anton up to the bedroom.

He curls up on the pillow next to Vinny and tucks his face into the crook of Vinny's shoulder.

"Tony," Vinny mumbles, already half-asleep, "you're purring." And Anton would be embarrassed, but he's too warm and comfortable and Vinny's mostly gone anyway, so he lets himself drift off in the soothing rumble.

But there's a game the next day and when morning rolls around, Anton is _still a cat_.

Anton is relegated to the locker room to watch the game on the screen in the locker room, something he only agrees to after Vinny very explicitly tells him to stay put. They're playing the Isles, who are mediocre this season, but Anton can't help tensing up each time the puck gets near Vinny and he's not there to help. The defense is solid, though, and Vinny pulls out a spectacular windmill save in the last two minutes to preserve the lead. As soon as he hears the final whistle, Anton is streaking down the tunnel and out into the bench. He hops up onto the boards as Vinny comes skating over.

"I told you to stay inside," Vinny says, but he's grinning from ear to ear. Anton bumps his head against Vinny's mask and he sees flashbulbs going off all over for photos that are probably going to haunt him for the rest of his life, but Vinny's glowing and exuberant as he carries Anton back into the locker room.

The relief is short-lived, though—their next game against the Penguins is a brutal loss despite Connors standing on his head all game, the only goal all game coming on a defensive breakdown. Connors breaks his stick before storming off the ice, and Anton is torn between being spitefully proud that Vinny won _his_ game and pissed off that they lost because he's still got four legs and a tail.

"It's not your fault that you're a cat." Vinny says when they finally get home, and "We have two days off now, we'll figure it out!" But Anton skulks off to hide in the closet where he spends an hour gritting his teeth and tensing his muscles, trying to _will_ himself back. _If we miss playoffs it'll be my fucking fault,_ he thinks. It doesn't make a difference.

**ZOE**

Laurier Park in February, albeit late February, is pretty brutal on Zoe's delicate South Carolina constitution. She takes Tango out for a lunchtime walk anyway, because Anika's gone all day at some conference for hotshot engineering students at the university. Tango's delighted that she gets to sprint around the fenced-off dog run, and Zoe parks herself on a nearby bench to try and slog through a few more pages of her LING 350 reading before the weather defeats her.

She's read the same paragraph three times when she hears some guy say, "I don't think this was a great idea." She glances up curiously, and discovers that the guy is, apparently, talking to the _cat_ casually riding on his shoulder. "Are cats even allowed at a dog park?" he wonders out loud. "Look, why don't we try the water thing again?" The cat hisses furiously.

Zoe wants to hear the rest of this conversation, but she also doesn't think she can feel her fingers, so she reluctantly goes to retrieve Tango. She manages to get the leash clipped on before Tango veers off, bumping straight into the legs of the dude with the cat.

"Shit, sorry," she says to the guy—who is also, Zoe realizes belatedly, Thomas Vincent of the Montreal Canadiens.

"Puppy!" Thomas says, setting the cat down on the ground as he drops to his knees. He glances up at Zoe with a delighted smile, "Can I pet your puppy?"

"Go ahead, she loves the attention." Zoe laughs.

He's murmuring "You're such a good dog," when, out of _nowhere_ , the silver-grey cat comes streaking between Tango and Thomas. The cat is puffed up to twice its size and hissing angrily. Tango, for all her enthusiasm, is a giant baby and immediately skitters backwards, taking refuge between Zoe's legs.

" _Tony_ ," Thomas says to the cat in exasperation, then "Sorry," directed at Zoe, abashed, as the cat scales him and winds itself possessively around his neck again. "We should go. But it was so nice to meet you! And you!" he adds, to Tango.

"Wait!" Zoe says, before she can stop herself. "Um, this is awkward I guess, but my girlfriend is a _huge_ Habs nerd, would you mind signing, uh," she hurriedly fishes a sheet of paper out of her backpack, "this?"

"Yeah!" Thomas says, and Zoe's relieved that he seems genuinely happy to do it. He scribbles a signature on the paper and hands it back to her saying, "You have good taste in girls."

Zoe grins back. "Oh, I know."

Anika is going to lose her _shit_.

**ANTON**

They end up at the practice rink because neither of them has any better ideas. "Maybe if you skate?" Vinny says, but he doesn't sound too convinced. Anton gets on the ice anyway and slides around for a bit. It's actually a little bit fun, being able to sprint across the ice with no concern for form or conditioning. He knows Vinny's taking fifty million photos. Vinny's been taking photos all day; his current wallpaper is a selfie of Anton riding on his shoulders. Anton is going to make him change it as soon as he has fingers again.

He bumps up against the far wall and looks over to see Vinny looking at him with an odd expression on his face, but as soon as Vinny catches him looking it's replaced with a smile. Anton's not sure what's wrong, but he skids over and lets Vinny pick him up.

"Oh Tony," Vinny says, and buries his face in Anton's fur.

 _Still a fucking cat_ , Anton thinks as they head home for dinner, and he's getting really sick of this song.

Vinny puts on _Brave_ after dinner. "For inspiration!" he says, and Anton curls up on his chest. He's not really following the movie, and he lets the lights and low mumble of voices lull him into a fuzzy half-sleep. Vinny's hand is buried in his fur, thumb stroking gently over Anton's side as the music washes over them.

"Miss you, Tony." Vinny says softly, and he sounds utterly miserable.

Anton goes from half asleep to fully awake in a split second, something twisted-up and furious bubbling in his chest. He hates that he's a cat and that Vinny is sad and that there's nothing he can even do about it right now, when Vinny _needs_ him. The tangled mess inside him feels like it's on fire and, distantly, he hears Vinny saying "Tony?" in concerned tones, but it feels very far away and in a dizzying rush he's suddenly four feet taller than he was a second ago, completely naked and sprawled across the ground.

"Tony?" Vinny says again, then, leaping off the couch to crush Anton into the floor, " _Tony!_ "

After Anton gets his clothes on, they curl up in bed, Vinny still delightedly patting Anton every now and then to make sure he's still human. "You were so _cute_." Vinny says, then. "Wait, what fixed it?"

"Nothing, I guess it just wore off or whatever," Anton mutters.

"There must be a _reason_ ," Vinny says thoughtfully. "We were watching Brave, _right_ , and I thought you were asleep, and–" Anton watches the realization come into his eyes, and he knows that he's blushing furiously because this is almost sappier than true love's kiss and should never be spoken of, ever. He waits for Vinny to say something but Vinny just leans in and kisses him, smiling into it.

Eventually, Vinny starts drifting off. Anton watches his eyes flutter shut, then inches forward to bump his forehead against Vinny's and mutter, "I missed you too, loser."

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](http://not-wisely.tumblr.com/)!


End file.
